


Fond

by gaycatpark



Category: Steak (2007)
Genre: Gen, M/M, here have some gotdang fluff, to make up for angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaycatpark/pseuds/gaycatpark
Summary: A private meetting is called between Dan and Serge. Serge is worried he has done something to offend Dan, who seems unusually nervous.





	Fond

The sky unfolded above, rich swirlings of deep blues and purples emerging as night descended, freckled by a brilliance of stars. Below them the town mirrored the sky with dazzling lights, a small shimmering pond of golds and reds. The hill, though, enveloped them in a still sort of dark.

“Did I do something wrong?” Serge asked as he leaned against the hood of his truck. He tried to appear as at ease as possible, one heel hooked against the fender, thumbs in his belt loops. Nevermind the way his blood thundered in his ears or the way he worried at his lower lip until his tongue tasted metallic. No, everything was fine. This was just a meeting between two… friends might not be the word for it. Just a private meeting between superior and devoted lackey, that was all. He dropped his eyes to the ground, trying to hide his anxiety. When no response came, Serge glanced back up.

Dan leaned against the side of his truck in a mimicry of Serge’s posture, and though he casually took a swig of milk, the subtle stiffness of his movements hinted at jittering nerves. He held the bottle in his hand, thumb tracing the cool curve of glass. Deep breaths. He could do this.

Though they were no more than two steps apart, it felt a chasm. Night crept between them, all stillness and silence. They should have been down at the bar, surrounded by laughter and heat and the crack of pool balls. Not here, not alone beneath the last strains of sunset, where the only thing to be heard was their own uneasy breathing.

But Dan had called him here, and so Serge obeyed. He considered repeating his question, but that would only reveal his uneasiness. No, he could only wait, twisting and agonizing beneath the surface, until Dan decided to speak.

Several long moments passed. Dan drank again, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He began to nod and Serge’s stomach sank. 

“I wanted a chance to talk to you in private.” God, he had done it now, hadn’t he? Perhaps some errant glance, some slip of the tongue. Serge tried, he really did, but only Dan was infallible out of the lot of them. Why he had been summoned alone, he did not know. Usually such matters were discussed in front of everyone, so all could share in the shame, all could internalize the lesson.

Dan silently straightened up and opened the passenger door. He rummaged inside, and for one horrible moment Serge thought he might reveal his cricket bat and punish him right then and there. Instead there came the clatter of bottles being moved and Dan gestured to Serge,

“Get in.”

Get in? To Dan’s truck? Serge faltered. He had never been allowed in Dan’t truck before. He hadn’t even been allowed to wear their jacket before he purchased a truck of his own. Your vehicle was an extension of yourself, a symbol of pride, kept to the same standard you held yourself and your fellow Chivers to.

Still, Dan had given him his order, and he was not one to disobey.

Serge clambered into the passenger side, heels clicking against a six pack of milk stored under the dash. Dan joined him in the driver’s seat, closing his door. Serge followed suit and soon the two sat in uncomfortable silence, boxed into the dark cab of the truck. Dan stared off out his side window while Serge looked straight ahead, his eyes trained on the twinkling town below, but not truly seeing it. The air inside smelled faintly of stale sweat, soured milk, and some sweet, sticky cologne. Not wholly unpleasant, but far more intimate than Serge was used to. He folded his hands in his lap and chewed on his cheek, waiting for Dan to say something, anything at all.

The words came in bits, too soft and wavering to dispel the tension.

“You-” here came a pause, a sigh from Dan and further unease for Serge- “I’ve been quite..”

“I apologize. For whatever it is I did.” Here Dan finally sat up and made eye contact. He had a queer look on his face, his brows furrowed and lips pouting in something that looked genuinely distressed.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“Then wh-”

“- don’t interrupt.” Dan placed both his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tight. Serge shifted. At this point his confusion outweighed whatever fear or awkwardness he felt. Still, he complied and kept his mouth shut, allowing Dan to puzzle through his words at his own pace.

“You played an excellent game of Bleue yesterday,” Dan finally said. Serge could not keep his bewilderment off his face any longer. A small, sputtering sigh escaped him and he turned to better stare at Dan. All this for a compliment?

Dan cupped his face, patting his cheek. Serge relaxed a little; this was a bit odd, but ultimately familiar behavior. However, Dan kept holding his face, hands warm, a little clammy. His thumb trailed across his cheekbones, examining their shape, the sharpness in contrast to the smoothness of Serge’s skin. They both held their breath, Dan drinking in every small detail.

Before he could psyche himself out, Dan leaned in, bringing their lips together. Serge let out a small squeak of surprise. He only sat there, stiff and unmoving against Dan’s kiss as he tried to comprehend. Dan pulled away, frowning. Serge felt his cheeks grow hot as Dan let go of him, his grip returning to the steering wheel.

Had that really just happened? The air grew hot, windows fogging with their breath, tension of what had just passed mounting between them now. Though now even closer, the chasam felt all the deeper.

“Get out,” Dan’s voice came out terse and low as he stared straight ahead. Serge opened his mouth, but closed it as Dan repeated his command. His hand was on the door, still watching Dan intently, his mind reeling.

Still, Dan had given him his order, and he was not one to disobey.

_Fuck that._

Serge closed the distance between them, grabbing Dan by the collar of his jacket. The kiss landed sloppily on Dan’s cheek as their heads collided with a quiet thonk. Dan cursed under his breath, but soon they were both laughing as he practically pulled Serge into his lap. This kiss was all the sweeter, Serge unfurling against Dan, soaking in the sweet taste of his lips and the warmth of his breath. Dan’s hands found their way beneath Serge’s jacket and to the small of his back, pressing him in closer until they were as close as they could get. Serge, for his part, wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck, only breaking their kiss to let out a breathy laugh.

Dan, his Dan, who he adored! He could barely comprehend it and so he quickly kissed Dan once more.

By the time they pulled apart the windows had fogged over, giving the lights of the town a dreamlike quality. They broke out the milk then, tilting their bottles together with a soft Chivers! How all the sweeter it tasted with Dan still mingling on his lips. Serge rested his head against Dan’s shoulder, feeling his hand around his waist, pulling him in all the closer. Together they drank, reveling in the soft glow of the lights below and the warmth within.

This, he realized, was all he had ever wanted. More than Chivers, more than the prestige and the order and the sense of pride it gave him. No, all that felt empty compared to the gentle rise and fall of Dan’s breathing, the softness of his jacket against his cheek. He had contented himself to being Dan’s favorite, but to actually wanted by Dan, to actually be his-!

Serge reached for the hand around his waist, entwining their fingers together. Dan chuckled, planting a kiss against the top of Serge’s head. Comfortable silence settled around them.

This was more than the Chivers could ever hope to be.

This, _this_ was perfection.


End file.
